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“Because a court ordered you to associate with them.”

My laugh is brittle and low. “Oh. Let me guess… you’ve been speaking with Chelsea?” I don’t wait for her to confirm. “Did she mention how she took Lucy from her crib when she was six months old? How she left me a fucking note saying she’d take care of my daughter while I grieved the death of her sister?”

Henley doesn’t speak. Her mouth only opens and closes.

“Or how about when a delivery driver mistook her for Lucy’s mother, and she didn’t correct him? Did she take any of the blame for the rift she caused between me and Lucy’s family?” When she shakes her head, I scoff. “Of course she didn’t. Because it is so much easier to blame everyone but the person responsible.” I step closer to her, my anger too perverse to shut down. “You come into my home, into my life, but you don’t know the first thing about me or my daughter. Yeah, I could have handled matters differently both now and back then, but I was holding on by a fucking thread.”

Tears burn my eyes, but Henley’s spill over when I confess, “My wife was dead, and the daughter she didn’t get the chance to raise was living three states over without my fucking permission. Was I an ass? Yeah, I was. Did I bring up every one of their family’s secrets during the drawn-out court proceedings to grant me custody of my own damn child? Fucking oath I did. Do I regret it? Not for a single second. Why? Because Lucy is mine, and I will never let anyone take her away from me. Not Caroline’s parents, her twin sister, or Thane…” I could stop there, but when have I been sensible around this woman? “Not even you.”

“I—”

Before she can speak another word, I climb the main stairs of the house I purchased with a massive mortgage since no one wanted to live in the “murder house.”

This time, Henley doesn’t follow me.

16

BRODIE

When I hear the patter of tiny feet, I scrub at my mouth to remove the whiskey from my lips, then hide the bottle Thane and I are sharing in the bottom drawer of my desk.

“Hey, baby. What are you doing down here? I thought you were heading up to bed.”

Lucy walks into my office with her stuffed rabbit dragging behind her. When she reaches my desk, I push back my chair and pick her up. She can smell the alcohol on my breath—her screwed-up nose announces this—but she’s not up for more antics today.

With my conversation with Henley not needing longer than an hour, Thane took that as meaning I was refusing the baton, so he stayed for both dinner and dessert.

It is a pity for him Henley hasn’t left her room in hours.

She didn’t even come down for dinner.

I can’t say I blame her. Thane is a worse cook than Lucy.

“If you’re worried Daddy and Thane will be upset about Henley tucking you in, you have no reason to fret. We were planning to come up and make sure you were settled after your bedtime stories.”

“We didn’t read any stories. Not even one.”

“You didn’t?” I ask, surprise in my tone. She suckers Henley into reading her two to three bedtime stories a night. I usually only do one.

When Lucy shakes her head, blonde locks catch in my cropped beard. “Henley isn’t in her room. She isn’t in the bathroom either. I can’t find her anywhere.”

When I peer at Thane, he scrubs at the stubble on his chin before placing his glass of whiskey down and heading for the stairs before us. He tried to coerce Henley out of her room earlier, but that was hours ago.

Upon noticing how worried Lucy is, I try to calm her. “Maybe she’s tired and went to bed early.”

“She’s not in her bed. I checked. She’s gone.” I pull her in close to my chest when her lower lip quivers, before climbing the stairs several paces behind Thane.

As I reach the door of Lucy’s room, Thane exits Henley’s at the end of the hall.

My heart sinks to my feet when he inconspicuously shakes his head, wordlessly announcing that Henley’s room is empty, but I play it cool. Lucy wasn’t old enough to remember the horrible way her mother was killed, and I want to keep it that way.

“I guess it’s my lucky night.” After placing Lucy on her feet, I nudge my head to her bookshelf. “Pick a book.” When she peers up at me, blinking and pleading, I hold my finger in the air. “One book. It’s already past your bedtime, so I’m not risking a tantrum, especially not with him sleeping over.” I nudge my head to Thane, whose shoulder is propped against Lucy’s bedroom door as he soundlessly seeks instructions.

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